The Khajiit Dovahkiin
by VeeXanya9
Summary: When Zhavanji, a Khajiit hailing from Elsweyer, travels with her caravan to Skyrim to make a profit, she finds herself thrust into a world plauged with dragons and civil war. Armed with the ancient power of Shouts, she must bring peace to the land.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Caravan

It was a clear, starry night. The twin moons Masser and Secunda glimmered faintly over the horizon, and it offered the caravan a little comfort in the face of their arduous quest. The carriage drove through the bumpy terrain like a boat on the sea, swaying and weaving over the uneven ground that was so different from the smooth sands of Elsweyr.

Holding the reins in front was a solid grey Khajiit. He had a muscular body and a flat face, with a determined look in those golden eyes. Long fur sprouted from all around his face, and three rings hung from his tall ears. The Khajiit was shivering and cold, but took it in stride and pushed onward against a blizzard of snow.

"Ja'rahzdo!" called a rough voice from the carriage. "The sun is beginning to shine. Ma'dhana will take over for now." Ja'rahzdo, the large grey one, turned around and smiled.

"Thank you, Ma'dhana. Be careful; the horses are nervous and the blizzard is strong." Ma'dhana, a young dark tabby with bright green eyes, nodded and took the reins. Ja'rahzdo walked over to the back of the carriage and began clapping his furry hands.

"Up, sisters, up! It's a new day!" Sure enough, the sun could now be seen slowly climbing up the sky. The two Khajiit women in fur sleeping bags shook their heads and blinked, rubbing their faces.

"Antbah needs five more minutes." said the smaller one groggily, and she pulled the sleeping bag over her head. The other groaned and pushed herself out of bed, slipping on some hide armor and grabbing a steel dagger that lay next to her.

She was a dark orange tabby with a long nose and large, ice blue eyes. Her body was bulky and strong for a female Khajiit, and you could see a curiosity and playfulness in her face. A long, prominent scar ran down her nose. Slipping the dagger into her belt, she went to the edge of the carriage and hung there, looking out to the mountains in awe. The cold air whipped against her face and she smiled.

"Quite a sight, huh, Ja'rahzdo?" she said in the rough voice common to female Khajiiti.

"Too cold for my taste, Zhavanji. Cold and difficult to traverse. But I'm glad you're in such high spirits; you'll need it when we get to Falkreath. I hear the Nords are most unwelcoming to visitors," replied Ja'rahzdo, pouring himself some rabbit stew.

"Oh, come now, Ja'rahzdo. Skyrim is more than just harsh, and you know that. We came here for a reason, and that reason was coin. And this land is drowning in coin," said Zhavanji. Ja'rahzdo smirked.

"While those fool Nords spend their time killing each other, they don't realize that Khajiiti are the only ones actually profiting from this silly conflict! Ah, speaking of which, what cities do we visit again?" Zhavanji fumbled around in her knapsack and pulled out a tattered map. She opened it and began to read.

"We'll be visiting some small towns in the west, Falkreath and Morthal, as well as an old city called Winterhold way up north. I say we don't go to Winterhold until we get used to the cold weather," said Zhavanji, and she rolled up the map and put it back in her knapsack.

"Sounds easy enough," replied Ja'rahzdo, and he shook Antbah's sleeping bag roughly.

"Come on, you lazy housecat! Ja'rahzdo wants some fresh meat," he joked, and Antbah sat up.

"All right, Antbah is awake! Just let me get my bow and armor," the dark brown Khajiit retorted, and started to put on her leather armor. She grabbed a long bow and some steel arrows from the side table and practiced shooting them, tugging the string back and releasing it with a loud _vssh!_

"Zhavanji, want to go hunting with Antbah today? You could learn a few things about wielding a bow," she said, and Zhavanji nodded. While Antbah could top even a Bosmer with her incredible marksmanship, Zhavanji's skill with a bow left something to be desired. She recalled her first lessons, constantly fumbling with the grip of the bow as the chord smacked her face when she tried to shoot an arrow. She grabbed her hunting bow, ready for a full day of lessons.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Glories of the Hunt

The caravan stopped, and Ja'rahzdo and Ma'dhana started to put up the tents. They were in Skyrim now, and Falkreath wasn't that far off. Ja'rahzdo took out a bowl filled with a crystallized mineral substance.

"Want some Moon Sugar, Zhavanji? It's about time you had a taste!" Zhavanji looked down at the bowl and growled.

"Devil food is what it is. When we're out selling wares, Zhavanji will not spend her free time pining for skooma! My mother brought me up without it, and that's the way it will stay," spat Zhavanji, turning away from Ja'rahzdo.

"Ma'dhana wouldn't mind some Moon Sugar, Ja'rahzdo. He is old enough now," said Ma'dhana, reaching for a handful.

"Very well, apprentice. Not too much, now; you are still young to experienced traders such as us. You have much to learn about the art of bartering," lectured Ja'rahzdo, handing Ma'dhana the bowl. Suddenly, there was a rustling in the bushes. A large moose, old and fat, stepped out of the bushes, swaying his large antlers towards the Khajiiti. He blinked at them and disappeared in a flash.

Antbah and Zhavanji jumped to their feet and, bows in hand, gave chase to the deer. The pair snapped branches out of the way and tromped through the undergrowth, finding it hard to hunt gracefully in the unfamiliar terrain. Zhavanji shot an iron arrow, but it whizzed past the moose's head. Antbah ran in front of her and aimed a steel arrow at the stag, following his movements precisely with the bow. She narrowed her eyes and whispered a prayer to Hircine. The arrow pierced the moose's chest and managed to slow it down. Zhabanji finished it off with an arrow to the neck.

"Excellent kill, Zhavanji! We will be eating this beast for days; look at the size of it!" said Antbah joyfully. Within moments, Ja'rahzdo and Ma'dhana were running to them through the forest, panting heavily.

"Yes, Zhavanji…why don't you…have the first cut…" Ja'rahzdo gasped in between breaths. Zhabanji was beaming; her first successful hunt! She readily obliged, and began walking towards the carcass, ready to skin it with her dagger. The other Khajiiti were heading back to the camp. Zhavanji's ears perked at a noise coming from the woods. _A rabbit,_ she thought, and began to cut.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Imperial Ambush

Zhavanji heard some footsteps in the distance. They were not accompanied by the clanking of armor, and the voices were low and loud. Instinctively, she hid in the undergrowth.

"-Yes, Ralof, I'm positive that this will work. You're a good man, and a capable fighter; I'm glad to have you by my side," said the lower, more regal voice.

"Thank you, Jarl Ulfric. But with all due respect, isn't this course of action a bit too…rash? We should probably take them by surprise when they least expect it," said a humbler voice.

_Nords,_ she thought, when a thin, black-haired Nord rode past the others on a horse, looking nervous. Suddenly, the clearing exploded with blood and battle cries. Rows upon rows of Imperial soldiers streamed into the clearing, swords held high over their heads. The Nords-of which Zhavanji could see that there were at least six-pulled out heavy battle axes and bows, charging at the Imperials.

Her heart went out to the Nords; they were ready to fight for their lives, even though the odds were overwhelmingly stacked against them. Still, they didn't stand a chance. The Imperials swarmed them like hornets, cutting them down with their swords and arrows. Ulfric, the Nord with the low voice, fell to the ground, at the feet of a female Legionnaire. She smiled, and bound his hands together.

_Why is he smiling?_ thought Zhavanji, when she saw Ulfric utter something in an unknown language.

"FUS, RO DAH!" the Nord shouted, and the soldier was blown off her feet.

"Gag him! Gag him!" she yelled, and two soldiers fitted a piece of fabric in between his teeth. He and Ralof were then tossed into a dogcart, along with the nervous-looking Nord that was riding the horse earlier. Horrified, Zhavanji was about to flee when she looked up into the face of an angry Imperial. The huge warhammer rammed into her head at full force, and she fell to the ground, unconscious.


	4. Chapter 4

The Khajiit Dovahkiin

Part 4

Pain. A searing pain that shot through her head was the first thing that Zhavanji felt when regaining consciousness. She held her eyes shut for several minutes, willing for it to go away. Slowly, it began to ache less and less, until she could open her eyes again.

Blinking, Zhavanji began to observe her surroundings. To her left was an Imperial soldier driving a dogcart. She could tell by the movements of her surroundings that she was in it. When she tried to move her hands, she could hardly feel them. Looking down, Zhavanji saw that they were bound tight. She tried to saw into them with her claws, but the ropes appeared to be enchanted.

"Hey, you! Finally awake," said a voice in front of her. Zhavanji looked up to see Ralof's face. Upon closer inspection, she could see that the Nord had light blond hair and a muscular build, with soft blue eyes.

"You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush. Same as us, and that thief over there!" Zhavanji looked to her right to see the skinny Nord that had been riding the horse. He was staring intently at Ralof, a burning hatred in his eyes.

"Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along! Empire was nice and lazy." He turned to Zhavanji.

"You, you and me, we shouldn't be here! It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants!" said Lokir.

_Ah, Stormcloaks! So that's what these Nords are, and apparently Ralof is one of them, s_he thought to herself.

"If it hadn't been for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfe-"

"Shut up back there!" said the Imperial soldier. The command was promptly ignored by the Nord thief as he looked over at Ulfric, who was sitting right by Zhavanji. She gulped; this was the man who had blown that Legionnaire away…just by shouting! But now, she had to admit that he looked quite pathetic. He was hunched over, bound and gagged, sadness in his eyes.

"What's wrong with him, eh?" said the thief.

"Watch your tounge! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!" shouted Ralof.

_The true High King? Boy, this just gets stranger and stranger… _she thought, but not daring to make a sound. She wanted to see how this played out. But the next comment sent chills down her spine.

"Ulfric? You're the leader of the rebellion…but if the captured you…oh gods, where are they taking us?" whimpered the thief.

"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits," replied Ralof mournfully, and he hung his head in defeat.


End file.
